


Unleashed

by Lupinewings



Category: Backstrom (TV)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupinewings/pseuds/Lupinewings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light blurb about Peter Niedermayer and Gregory Valentine and some slight kink. Valentine discovers fiddling with Niedermayer's tie can lead to sides of Niedermayer he never knew,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unleashed

“Argh!” Backstrom frantically opened another cupboard door. “Where is it? There has to be alcohol somewhere!”

“There is none here, Mr. Three Week sober. Why?” Valentine watched his brother curiously.

Backstrom whirled and pointed at him. “You! This is your fault!”

Gregory Valentine briefly wondered if his brother had gone nuts. “What is my fault?”

“I’m not gay!”

“I know that. We have standards, you know. What are you yelling about?”

Backstrom opened another cupboard. “You did that stupid tie thing with Niedermayer and now it’s in my dreams!”

Valentine quickly reflected on the day’s events. He had seen the team and had flirted with the handsome sergeant as usual. _Tie, tie…_ ”Do you mean when I grabbed his tie?”

“Yes! He followed you like a dog. Now it’s in my head and I can’t get it out! Don’t we have rubbing alcohol?”

Valentine snorted. “Are you saying you had a homoerotic dream about _Niedermayer_?”

“Why do you think I need a drink?”

Valentine chuckled and walked to Backstrom. “Relax! It doesn’t mean you’re gay! It may mean you like Niedermayer more than you let on or that you’ve watched that amazing ass one too many times.”

“I know we have rubbing alcohol!”

Valentine handed him a bottle. “Have a root beer.”

Backstrom chugged the soda. “It was disgusting. You need to stop coming to the station unless I call.”

“I have friends there,” Valentine said. “And a few men I pick up now and then. And since Niedermayer and Paquet aren’t dating and haven’t for a while, he’s fair game.”

“Paquet came to her senses. And besides, he’s way too kinky.”

Valentine looked at Backstrom. “How do you know how kinky he is?”

“I told you, he loves that tie thing. You grabbed his tie and he practically came right there.”

Valentine’s eyes widened. “He likes playing games? I never saw him as much more than delicious, delicious vanilla. Sounds interesting.”

Backstrom curled his lip. “No, no it isn’t! It’s disgusting!”

Valentine laughed. “Take a cold shower and calm down.”

Backstrom swore and went to the shower. At work, he spent the day glaring at Niedermayer who looked more and more confused. Briefly Backstrom imagined Niedermayer following him on a leash and he shuddered.

Valentine breezed in at lunch, kissed Paquet’s cheek, and handed Gravely a single rose. Gravely smiled. “He’s in his office,” she said. Valentine nodded and sauntered past Niedermayer into Backstrom’s office. He didn’t miss Niedermayer’s gaze flicking to him as he passed.

“I have the information you wanted on the stolen statues,” he said to Backstrom.

“Good. Why didn’t you wait until I got home?”

“I wanted to see if your gay panic had subsided.”

Backstrom grunted. “Like you panic me,” he said. Valentine smiled, handed him a paper,  and strolled to Niedermayer’s desk.

“Niedermayer.”

“Valentine. Hello.”

Valentine smiled seductively, leaned over the desk and playfully tugged Niedermayer’s tie. “Willing to help me bring in a heavy box?’ he asked.

NIedermayer looked at him and nodded. “Sure.”

Valentine tugged the tie again and watched Niedermayer who obediently followed him. Valentine bit back a smile. They walked to the garage where Valentine had parked. Niedermayer followed at his heels. Valentine pulled again and Niedermayer stepped up to his side. “I’m right here,” he said mildly.

“So I see, “ Valentine purred. He inhaled and smiled. “Come here.”

Niedermayer gave him a puzzled look and stepped closer. Valentine gazed in his eyes and kissed him deeply. Niedermayer froze for a moment and then wrapped his arms around Valentine. Valentine took full advantage, plundering Niedermayer’s mouth. He tasted of tea and mint. He broke the kiss, nuzzled Niedermayer’s ear. Gently he flicked the tie. “Knees,” he whispered. Niedermayer gave him a confused look. Valentine kissed him again. “Knees, babe. Do it nice.”

To his utter amazement, Niedermayer dropped to his knees. Valentine knew sex, had both received and given many a blowjob but none quite so--dedicated. He dug his fingers into Niedermayer’s thick hair, groaned, pressed back against the car. When he saw spots and finally climaxed, he found himself sagging against the car. Through a daze, he felt a teasing tongue lick him clean, soft fingers tuck him into his pants, and a warm voice rumbled “And _that_ was just a quickie.”

Valentine, one sweet, boneless mass, watched Niedermayer walk off. Slowly Valentine pulled himself together and sat in his car. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Niedermayer strolled to the bathroom, washed up, and then grabbed a cup of coffee after detouring to the break room. His own body begged for release, for attention but he firmly told himself to wait. At his desk, he sat, drank coffee, and thought. He liked the flirty man from the first and Valentine had somehow discovered one of his kink buttons and pressed it hard. He sighed. Heterosexual or bisexual didn’t seem important when Valentine was involved. The worst part was he hadn’t been with someone for a very long time. Not even Nadia and he had gotten too far.

“Are you done with Valentine?”

Niedermayer looked up at his boss. “He needed help with moving some items in the car,” he lied smoothly. _Please don’t let him know what I just did._

“Fine. Let’s go. Attempted murder on Fir.”

Niedermayer focused on his work. As he toiled, he noted Backstrom watching him oddly again. He mentally sighed. While he thoroughly enjoyed his work, he did wish his boss would like him a bit more. He shook his head. He really needed to meditate.

Backstrom wondered about his forensics man. Niedermayer seemed off somewhat, less chatty and more distracted. He wondered just what Valentine had him move. At home, he yelled for his brother. “What?” Valentine asked, popping out of his room, half dressed.

“What the hell are you up to with Niedermayer?”

Valentine’s eyes widened. “What?”

“What did he move for you? If you are moving stolen merchandise with _my_ team…”

“Calm down! It’s nothing like that!”

“Then what is it?”

“I wanted to see if the tie thing worked.”

Backstrom froze. “Tell me you didn’t..IN the garage? It’s monitored!”

Valentine snorted. “Not where we were. Besides, we didn’t have sex. Not really.”

“What is not really?”

  
Valentine smirked. “He does very well on his knees.”

“Argh! I never needed to know that!” Backstrom stomped to his chair. “Never!” He breathed deep. “I work with him.”

“He’s not going down on you,” Valentine said. He paused. “At least he better not.”

“Go away, Val.”

“I am.”

“No screwing around with Niedermayer!” Valentine merely kept smiling. “I mean it,” Backstrom said. “Bad enough Nadia dumped him, he’ll break when you do it.”

“My, my, Everett Backstrom cares?”

Backstrom flushed. “No, I just hate his whine.”

“”I have no intention of hurting anyone.” He walked back to his room.

“I mean it, Valentine!”

Valentine merely dressed and headed out. He drove himself to Niedermayer’s apartment. As he approached the door, he smelled the aroma of bread baking. Niedermayer opened the door, dressed in a robe. “Valentine! Come in!”

Valentine strolled in. Niedermayer’s apartment smelled faintly of incense and baking bread. In fact, a fresh loaf sat on the counter. Shockingly clean and neat, it also appeared sparse. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” Niedermayer inhaled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Good.” Valentine smiled and crooked his fingers. “Come here.”

Niedermayer walked over. “Rory,” he started. “I mean, Val,”

“Rory?” Valentine asked, raising an eyebrow. Niedermayer blushed.

“I should have said Gregory.”

“Why Rory?”

“I know you don’t use Gregory often. Val?”

“Works. We can figure out pet names later.”

Niedermayer blinked. “We will?”

Valentine smiled. He pulled Niedermayer to him. “You did so very well today.” Niedermayer’s skin flushed again. “I just felt bad I left you unsatisfied.”

“I’m fine...”

Valentine kissed him. He pulled Niedermayer in the direction of where he guessed the bedroom was located. “The only thing I want to hear is you screaming my name.”

Niedermayer didn’t scream but moaned Valentine’s name quite satisfactorily. Valentine thoroughly explored and enjoyed the man he’d crushed on for so long. And after they finished and cuddled, Niedermayer led the way to the shower, scrubbed himself and Valentine clean and then returned to the bedroom.

Niedermayer took control. Valentine never felt so cherished. Slowly, tenderly, Peter touched him, almost as if he feared Valentine would vanish. And Valentine discovered the lips and tongue that so elegantly quoted poetry and literature with such fervor could perform another kind of magic. Peter took his time, relishing each sound, each touch, trying to etch each moment into memory for this might not come again. When Valentine finally slept in Peter’s arms, Peter stayed awake. For tonight Gregory Valentine was his.

When Valentine woke, the rich aroma of pancakes and syrup filled the air. “Hungry?” Peter asked as he came in the room.

“Ravenous. Do you have coffee?”

“It’s made.”

They ate companionably, talking some but mainly just enjoying each other. Valentine left with a kiss and Niedermayer showered and hurried to work. Usually he was the first there but Gravely, Paquet and Almond all stood by the board. “Morning,” Almond said.

“Good morning.” Niedermayer walked to them.

“Are you limping?” Gravely asked.

“Pulled a muscle. What’s new?”

Paquet brought the team up to date when Moto and Backstrom came in, Backstrom eating an apple. “Get me the Hanes report,” Backstrom ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you limping?” Backstrom demanded. “God, Niedermayer, let Valentine bang you on your days off.”

Niedermayer blinked and the group looked stunned. “I pulled a muscle,” Niedermayer said. “I do play badminton.”

“Badminton? And you say you’re not gay.”

“Badminton doesn’t make someone gay, sir.”

“No, screwing Valentine makes you gay. Just do it on your own time.”

Niedermayer looked frustrated and embarrassed but he merely inhaled and changed the topic. Backstrom noted the others looking at Niedermayer curiously and knew the story would be out by mid morning. Gossip in a police station ran faster than coffee. And when Valentine strolled in at lunch, carrying a delicious smelling bag, he didn’t miss gazes turning to Valentine. “Why are you here?” Backstrom asked.

“Lunch if you want.”

“Chinese?”

“Yes.”

Backstrom grabbed the bag. “Thanks.”

“Where’s Niedermayer?”

“Probably limping back from the bathroom. I’m guessing that’s your work?”

“He does play badminton, you know. And does yoga.”

“Did you screw him or not?” Backstrom began eating. Valentine frowned.

“Not telling.” Valentine stood up as Niedermayer appeared. The dapper sergeant walked to his desk and pulled out a book. Valentine started to walk towards him.

“Do not have sex in the station--or garage.”

“From the man who almost had sex in front of a crowd?”

Backstrom reddened. “That was different.”

“Sure it was. Because it was you.”

“No, because it wasn’t Niedermayer. At least it’s over with.” Backstrom glanced at the heavily engrossed Niedermayer. “Pervert.”

“If you only knew,” Valentine sighed. He strolled over to where Niedermayer read. “What are you reading?”

“Poetry.

‘ _This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,_

_Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson_

_done,_   
_Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the_   
_themes thou lovest best,_   
_Night, sleep, death and the stars.’ “_

“Whitman,” Valentine said with a grin. “But your book is Allen Ginsberg.” He tapped the book and smirked.

“I like all types of poetry,” Niedermayer said.

Valentine leaned forward and whispered in Niedermayer’s ear. Niedermayer’s neck flushed but he gazed steadily into Valentine’s eyes. “I know Ginsberg’s work,” Niedermayer said. “And yes, ‘O Master’ is one of his. I’m not ashamed.”

“But I can embarrass you,” Valentine teased.

“Some,” Niedermayer conceded. He inhaled. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Maybe,” Valentine purred.

“Would you like to go out? Dinner?”

Valentine blinked but his smiled widened. “Is this a date?”

Niedermayer smiled back. “Wine, roses.” Valentine laughed a little.

“Sure. Pick me up at 8 tomorrow night.”

“All right.”

Valentine reached out, straightened Niedermayer’s tie and didn’t miss Niedermayer’s stiffening back as he did so. “See you then.” He left and Niedermayer inhaled again. He saw Gravely eyeballing him and went back to his book. He worked late that evening and only looked up when a voice said “Sergeant?”

“Ms. Gazanian, how are you?” Niedermayer rose to his feet.

“Is Everett here?”

“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. Can I help?”

“Only if you can organize my life, Sergeant.” She sighed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Would you like some coffee, tea? I’ll help all I can.”

“No, it’s all right.”

“I know you and the Lieutenant have had awkward times but I also know how much you care for each other. I’ll help.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude.”

She gazed at him curiously. “I’d love coffee, thank you. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for saving Roshe.”

“I’m glad I could help. I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you.”

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

“I know the Lieutenant can be trying but he does care for you. A lot.”

She smiled. They sat, drank coffee, and chatted.

For the next month, Niedermayer felt on top of the world. He and Valentine dated, (yes, he did bring roses, much to Valentine’s amusement), they talked and he also tried to help Gazanian as well. Being an active listener and general loving to help anyone, he listened, engaged her, and tried to delicately advise but only when she asked. Besides, helping her helped Backstrom and he liked that idea.

One morning, as he came into work, Almond grabbed him and dragged him aside. “What are you thinking?” Panic colored the normally calm bass.

“Tea?”

“I mean about who you’re dating! Backstrom will kill you!”

“I think who I date is my business.”

“Not her!”

Niedermayer blinked. “Who are you talking about?”

“Amy Gazanian.”

“I’m not dating her!”

“Moto saw you two having coffee.”

“Yes, we meet for coffee now and then. I try to explain Backstrom to her.”

Almond stared. “Are you saying you’re his wingman?”

Niedermayer paused. “I guess I am. I’m certainly not dating her!”

Almond laughed. “Just so you know, if Moto knows, Backstrom will. Good luck explaining that!”

Niedermayer shrugged. “He can just ask her.”

“How long have you worked for Backstrom?” The two grinned at each other.

“Niedermayer!”

Niedermayer was used to Backstrom’s bellows and summons. He wasn’t used to being grabbed by the collar and dragged into Backstrom’s office. “Sir?”

Backstrom and he actually stood close to the same height. However, Backstrom seemed to tower over him. “Amy. Talk. Now.”

Niedermayer steadied his breathing. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. If you mean Ms. Gazanian, I know her.”

“You’re dating!”

“No, no I’m not. I am not interested in her in any romantic way.”

Backstrom’s eyes flashed. “Is that why you went to dinner?”

“We never went to dinner. We have gone out for coffee which we each pay for our own. Sir, she just wanted someone to listen.”

“And that’s you?”

“For now, yes, sir. She wants to talk to you but I think she is unsure on how to proceed. You are quick to resolve issues when sometimes just listening is what is needed.”

Backstrom blinked, rage fading. “Keep talking.”

Backstrom might be the psychological wizard, able to get in criminals’ heads but Niedermayer was the diplomat. He knew what people liked and while he didn’t have Backstrom’s gifts, he had far more empathy. So he told his boss what he had learned from Amy, shared his ideas. “I should just tell her I became clean for her,” Backstrom muttered.

“No. No. Sir, you did that for you, not her. As you should. But you could thank her for helping you see that you needed help.”

“She won’t buy that, Niedermayer, no one will.”

“Yes she will. It’s the truth. Just soften a little, go slow.”

“Like you know.”

Niedermayer looked at him. “You want her back. You care for her and she cares for you. Just go slow. And if she calls about an opossum, don’t assume it’s a booty call.”

“Christ.”

Niedermayer smiled. “She cares. You need to show her you care and not just physically.”

Backstrom glared at him and both turned as Moto’s voice said “Hello, Ms. Gazanian.”

“Out, Niedermayer.”

Niedermayer happily fled to his desk. He watched as Backstrom took Amy into his office and they spoke. She left with a smile and nod at him and Backstrom followed her, looking somewhat bemused. “I owe you,” he muttered. “It worked. We’re meeting for dinner tonight.”

“Wonderful.”

“Don’t date her.”

Niedermayer sighed. “Sir, I never dated her.” His voice trailed off. Valentine stalked through the station, right to Niedermayer. He grabbed Niedermayer’s tie as Niedermayer scrambled to his feet, wondering how everything was going so wrong.

“Come with me,” Valentine hissed. “I’m borrowing your man for a few minutes,” he said to Backstrom.

“Go ahead,” Backstrom said.

“Val,” Niedermayer started.

“Not here,” Valentine snapped. He yanked and Niedermayer obediently followed.

“Garage is monitored,” Backstrom reminded.

Valentine shot his brother a dirty look and the two hurried to the garage. At Valentine’s car, he spun and pulled Niedermayer to him, kissing him brutally. “You’re mine, remember,” Valentine growled.

“What?” Niedermayer shakily asked, touching his lips.

“Mine! Why are you dating Gazanian?”

“I’m not! We had coffee a few times.” Niedermayer inhaled, calmed himself.

“How is that not dating?!”

“She wanted a sympathetic friend. We each paid for our own coffee and we are not dating.”

Valentine studied him, lips thin and eyes flashing. “Bad enough she is taking Backstrom but you too?”

“I’m not romantically interested in her. She cares for Backstrom, not me. She simply wanted a friend.”

“She’s pretty enough and female.”

“Not as attractive as you,” Niedermayer said. Valentine blinked. “I’m dating you, Val. I want you.”

“Remember that,” Valentine said darkly. “You belong to me.”

Niedermayer looked at his lover and prudently decided against his ‘No one owns anyone as no one is property’ speech. He simply smiled. “And you belong to me. Glad that’s settled.”

Valentine looked stunned. “Fine,” he said. “I can do monogamy.” Niedermayer smiled wider. “No more Amy.”

“I never touched her,” Niedermayer said.

Valentine kissed him, gentler than before. Yet he ground against Niedermayer, hard, and Niedermayer kissed back, fighting the urge to shove Valentine down and have sex on the car or floor. “I am not doing you on the car,” he whispered to Valentine although part of him thought that was a great idea.

Valentine smiled wickedly. “I can do you,” he purred. “Bend you right over the hood.”

Niedermayer’s body screamed yes, especially when Valentine kissed him again. His brain snapped into gear as Valentine began unbuttoning his shirt. “Not here, not now,” he rasped. Valentine chuckled, ran a hand over Niedermayer’s butt and squeezed.

“Got you something.” He pulled a long, black strip out of his pocket, trailed it across Niedermayer’s neck. Niedermayer smiled.

“While I’m not opposed to paying ‘Master and Servant’,” he said. “I’m not wearing a collar at work.”

“But it’s special.” Niedermayer looked at the collar. Supple black leather with an elegantly engraved silver plate that read _I belong to Gregory Valentine_ and Valentine’s phone number. “Wear it and think of me,” Valentine coaxed.

“Val…”

“Come on. Please. It can be under your shirt.”

Niedermayer exhaled noisily. “Just for you,” he mumbled.

Valentine smiled, unbuttoned his shirt, buckled the collar around Niedermayer’s neck. He fastened the shirt over the collar, straightened Niedermayer’s tie and jacket, running his hands over Niedermayer’s chest. “There,” he said. He kissed Niedermayer. “See you tonight.”

Niedermayer yanked Valentine, close, kissed him soundly, and left the garage. Back in the station, the team stood by the board, all trying to be casual. “Everything OK?” Gravely asked.

“Sure.”

“Know who wears the pants in that relationship,” Moto muttered to Almond.

“We date, Moto, as equals,” Niedermayer mildly said.

“Right,” Backstrom said. “Are we done with Niedermayer’s dating life now? Because I know it’s only 30 seconds but it’s 30 seconds I don’t want to even hear about again.”

The team returned to work and Niedermayer gratefully began paperwork. He didn’t miss Backstrom eying him suspiciously from time to time but the normally irritable man was calm. In fact, he left early from work and Niedermayer figured he was nervous. Niedermayer rubbed his neck. He had to admit he was somewhat nervous, too. While he understood people, his romantic past actually wasn’t extensive and he was treading all new water here. He could count his past lovers on both hands and serious relationships on one.

He glanced at Nadia, wondered if she could help. Yet, as he knew well, his emotions were his own, and he would have to come to realizations by himself. He stretched, felt the collar on his neck, and shook his head. He didn’t mind giving in a little for Valentine. He looked at his work, closed the file, and pulled on his jacket.

At his apartment he changed into a robe, went and meditated.

Valentine opened the door to Niedermayer’s apartment, shaking his head. For a cop, Niedermayer had shitty locks. Then again, Niedermayer was an odd cop. He didn’t carry a weapon (although Paquet had told Valentine he could shoot very well when he needed to), he wasn’t a judgemental prick (and, yes, Valentine knew his half brother could be very judgemental!), and he seemed very carefree for a law enforcement person. He also had some secrets Valentine itched to know.JUst where did he get certain scars? Why was he assigned to Backstrom's team? And what had he meant when he said "Everyone has a past."?

He found Niedermayer meditating, wearing a loose, dark blue robe that looked like real silk and looked incredible on the man. Valentine smiled. The black collar still rested on his tanned neck and Valentine licked his lips. He’d seen the desire in Niedermayer’s eyes when he said he would bend him over the hood of the car. Niedermayer may have said no but had Valentine pushed it, he was sure the taller man would have given in. He watched him meditate, wondering just what Peter got out of it. Peter was New Age, though. He even bought the psychic thing.

Niedermayer breathed slowly and Valentine continued watching. He wondered about the scar on Peter’s neck and then thought of various scars in other places.  When Peter opened his eyes, Valentine sat across from him on the floor. Peter jerked. “How did you get in?” Peter asked.

“You have poor locks, Peter. You need to change them.” Niedermayer smiled. Valentine reached out, tugged the collar. “It looks good on you.”

“You have good taste,” Niedermayer said. “Just let me change, we’ll go out.”

“I like what you have on,” Valentine purred. “Besides, I want to finish up on our discussion.”

“Which one?”

  
“You, me, mine, bending over,” Valentine said, standing up. NIedermayer followed suit, looking at Valentine with a somewhat amused look. Valentine ran his fingers through Niedermayer’s hair, kissed him soundly. “Yes, the collar looks great. The tattoo will look better.”

“Val,” Peter warned as Valentine tugged him towards the bedroom. “No one said anything about a tattoo.”

Valentine grinned and Peter rolled his eyes. This was insane--but maybe a dose of insanity--Valentine style--was just what he needed. Valentine kissed him again.

“Peter?”

“Hmm?’

“Stop thinking.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure of the name of the Captain from the reservation. I thought it was Roshe.


End file.
